Worth Something
by Alligates
Summary: A few knights have decided that a certain servant needs to be taught a lesson for his impertinence. He's just a worthless servant, he isn't of any real importance, and he needs to understand that. Arthur, however, seems to disagree. Violently. From prompt on tumblr: "Don't listen to them. Don't you ever listen to them." Merthur if you want, friendly fluff if you don't.


**Here I am with a long overdue story that's been simmering in its own solitude over on tumblr!**

**Prompt from anonymous: "Don't listen to them. Don't you ever listen to them."**

**Also no one ever sends me prompts! Guys, you don't even need an account to send me prompts on tumblr! Even here if you want, but I won't get to them as quickly. You can describe a scenario, give me an idea and set me loose on it, or send me a line or two of dialogue! Anything! I want to write!**

**For those interested in that (and you _should be_ because I will write anything. Seriously. Mostly. I will not write smut or things of that sort) my writing blog is _alligatesthewordsmith_ on tumblr, so go there and send me prompts! **

**Okay, enjoy! (AND THEN SEND ME PROMPTS. NOT EVEN PROMPTS. A FULLY DETAILED PLOT LINE IF YOU NEED SOMETHING SPECIFIC.)**

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><p>Merlin let out a squawk of surprise as something gave him a hard push from behind, sending all the pieces of Arthur's armour flying out of his arms.<p>

He immediately knelt down to collect the pieces, glancing behind him to see what had caused the incident. His eyes narrowed as he recognized the small group of knights standing there, watching him with smug eyes.

Merlin turned away. He did not have time to deal with bullies. He continued to pick up the metal plates until he was shoved once more, causing him to drop the few he had gathered.

"Well, servant?" the one who seemed to be the leader said from where he stood over Merlin, hands on hips and a thick air of arrogance seeping off him. "Aren't you going to apologize to your betters?"

Merlin continued to gather the armour, glaring at him. "Apologize for what?" he retorted.

The knight looked perplexed for a moment by the servant's brashness, before his eyes narrowed in anger. "Now listen here, _boy, _we are Knights of Camelot. You will not speak to us that way."

"Yes, sir knight," Merlin drawled sarcastically, gathering the last of the metal pieces in his arms and standing up straight. "And I am a servant of Camelot. You will not speak to _me _this way."

"Why, you—" another knight gasped, stepping forwards. "Apologize this instant, you insolent waif!"

Merlin sent him a mirthless smile, adjusting the armour he carried. "Or what? You'll send me to the King? For what? _I _should be the one sending _you _to the King, for abusing the servants!" Merlin had, indeed, seen this group before, harassing the maidservants and threatening the cup-bearers. He was quite sure they had also beaten the stablehand, but the poor boy had been too terrorized to speak about it.

Another knight laughed. "You think the King will believe you? A simple servant?"

"I am Arthur's _personal manservant, _I'll have you know," Merlin growled.

The leader smirked. "And you think that changes anything? You're still a servant. A _peasant. _You're worth _nothing _to King Arthur."

The words stung, but he knew they were not true. Merlin turned around, fully intent on leaving, but he could not help the quiet, "You're wrong," that left his lips.

A gloved hand gripped his arm tightly, stopping him. "_What _did you say, boy?"

Merlin tried to shake off his offender, but to no avail. "I said, _you're wrong. _Arthur isn't like that."

The knight smiled at him, but his beady eyes were stone cold. "You know _nothing, _servant. We know you're useless, and so does the King. We're just more honest about it. You should _thank _us." And with that, he shoved Merlin back into the rest of the group, scattering the plates of armour across the hallway. Merlin tried to regain his footing, but was pushed away before he could. This went on for what felt to him like an eternity, and there were more than a few kicks and punches thrown into the mix as well. It was a whirlwind of torment, and Merlin was too disoriented to help himself.

When eventually they stopped and cleared out of the corridor, Merlin was sprawled on the floor among the pieces of armour, dizzy and aching. He would probably be horribly bruised now, but not visibly as they had mostly avoided his face. He pushed Arthur's helmet away from where it sat near his face, and—_Arthur's armour. _He had to get it polished. He was already late.

Merlin ran.

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><p>By the time he got the armour done, Arthur was furious.<p>

"Honestly, Merlin, I sent you _hours _ago! What could possibly have taken so long? You're even more useless than I thought."

Though the words were meant in jest, Merlin felt a stab of pain in his chest, behind his bruised ribs. _We know you're useless, and so does the King. _

"I'm sorry, Sire," Merlin said flatly, staring at the wall. "I'll try to be quicker next time."

Arthur frowned at him, looking a bit confused. "It's, er… it's fine, Merlin, just… put it on the table. And I have some clothes that need washing by the door," he added, if only to try and regain the normalcy that had already left the conversation.

"Yes, Sire," Merlin said, hardly quiet enough to be heard, trying to escape from the hideous voice of the knight as it resonated in his mind, _useless, useless, useless, useless_….

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><p>Merlin became something of a target for the group of knights during the following weeks. Nearly every day they would corner him in some quiet corridor and torment him. There were physical attacks, but Merlin could deal with those—he was not Gaius' apprentice for nothing. It was the verbal abuse that had the worst effect, gnawing its way into his mind until it was all he could think about, twisting and darkening until he heard the words fall from the lips of everyone he once thought a friend. He knew they were just lies, he <em>knew <em>it, but he could not help but wonder if maybe they were… not.

The manservant became something of a shadow of his former self. He was a lot more respectful to Arthur, and the friendly banter that was once the light of his day became nothing more than the knight's voices, again, and again, and again, growing louder, louder, _louder_….

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><p>It was nearly a month before Arthur mentioned anything. It was late, and he was just preparing for bed. Merlin was moving softly as a mouse, flitting about the room as he extinguished the candles one by one. The shadows on his manservant's face darkened with every flame he blew out, and Arthur was sure it was not just the changing of the light.<p>

"Merlin," Arthur began, not sure where he was going with this, "You've been… off… lately."

The manservant paused over the last candle, his back to the King. "I apologize, Sire. I will try to—"

"No, no, don't apologize, you _idiot_, I just—" He stopped immediately when he saw how Merlin flinched at the light jab. "Merlin?"

"Good night, Sire," the manservant said softly, blowing out the candle and allowing the darkness to blanket the room.

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><p>Arthur did not for the life of him know what was wrong with Merlin. He had just become all… polite, and seemingly without reason. The King felt he probably should have been overjoyed at this long-awaited development, but… it felt so wrong. There was no more light in Merlin's eyes when they spoke, and Arthur had not been insulted in over a month. It was <em>wrong. <em>

And so, when Merlin was late one afternoon for the first afternoon in many weeks, Arthur set off in search of him. He hoped whatever he found would shed light on whatever was the matter with his friend.

Arthur turned a corner on the way to Gaius' chambers, which seemed the obvious place to start looking, and was wholly unprepared for what he saw next.

Merlin, he noticed first, was standing unsteadily, holding a hand to his bleeding nose as he glared at his offenders. Arthur saw the glare, and it fell dishearteningly short of what he knew the manservant could usually muster when faced with enemies.

Right, enemies.

Arthur's eyes widened.

Those were knights.

Those were _his _knights.

Those were his knights, about six of them, ganging up on a scrawny servant. _His _scrawny servant.

He strode closer, and he heard words that made him very, very angry.

"You're worthless, absolutely worthless! Nothing but a stupid little _servant!_"

"You can't do anything right! You're a good for nothing fool, _no one wants you!_"

"It will be a blessing to all when the King finally sacks you! You know he's dying to do it! You're _useless! _Why would he keep _you _around?"

That was the first one Arthur grabbed; he seemed like the leader. He struck the knight hard across the face and sent him to the floor.

"It will be a blessing to all when I _strip you of your title, _you _pathetic _excuse for a knight!" Arthur fumed.

The knight—ex-knight—stared fearfully up at the King as he held a shaking hand to his face.

"And that goes for all of you!" Arthur yelled, moving to shield a stunned-looking Merlin behind him. "What kind of _coward _goes around beating _servants? _You are supposed to _protect _these people! They are near defenceless without you, and you treat them like _this?_"

"But, Sire," the leader stuttered weakly from the floor, "this one was being insolent, we were doing you a favour—"

"You will not speak _another word _unless you wish to be _banished _from my lands, coward," Arthur said slowly, the words flowing through the air like thick poison. "Or would you rather kindly impale yourself on your sword and in doing so make the world a better place? Shall I do it for you? This is _my manservant, _and I know for a fact he would not offend you without cause. The blame remains with you worthless pigs."

Arthur prodded Merlin to start walking away. "You are all hereby stripped of your knighthoods. You will spend the following two weeks in the stocks. And _you,_" he snarled, turning back to the leader, "_twice _that. Keep in mind that I am being _merciful_. You do not deserve such light punishment."

And with that, he whirled around, guiding Merlin down the corridor.

Merlin said nothing all the way to Arthur's chambers. His nose had stopped bleeding a while ago, but there was still an unsightly stain of red above his lip. Arthur indicated for him to sit down at his table, and he did so wordlessly, still in mild shock. The King left his line of sight for a few seconds, but he returned with a wet rag.

"Arthur—" Merlin began, and it was the first time he had not used his master's proper title in weeks.

"Hush, Merlin," Arthur said, dabbing lightly at his friend's face.

The manservant pulled away. "Sire, you don't—"

"Why didn't you tell me about this, Merlin?" Arthur interrupted.

Merlin's lack of a verbal response was apparently answer enough.

"Merlin," Arthur said firmly, tilting his manservant's face so he could look into his eyes, "don't listen to them. Don't you _ever _listen to them. You are worth _so much more _than those fools could possibly comprehend, do you understand? Now listen carefully, because I am only saying this once." Arthur took a breath. "You _matter, _Merlin. You matter to so many people in Camelot—Gaius, Guinevere, the knights," and Merlin knew full well which knights these were, "and… and me, Merlin. You matter to me."

For a moment, the manservant was silent, watching his master's face as he processed the information.

And then Merlin felt a flicker of a smile pass over his lips, and he allowed it to grow into a proper smile until he was outright beaming at Arthur like a ray of sunshine, and the King could not help but smile back.

"Thank you, Arthur."

They both knew it was for more than just the words.

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><p><strong>What is the hidden meaning behind that last sentence? I don't actually know. The words just wanted to be there. I am their vessel.<strong>

**Anyway, thank you for reading!**

**And for those of you who have read The Insolent Servant... I'm sorry if this seems quite similar. As you can see, my creativity only reaches so far. But hey, more for you if you like it!**


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